


Promises Made

by dragonQuill907



Series: Promises [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Eventual Johnlock, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Nightmares, POV Julia Holmes, POV Original Character, POV Sherlock Holmes, Parentlock, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-30 21:11:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3951898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonQuill907/pseuds/dragonQuill907
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of events set between the ending of Promise of Home and the beginning of Promise of Love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promises Made

**Author's Note:**

> Hi again, guys! We're almost to the sequel! This is honestly taking a little longer than I would've liked, but, alas, no one can avoid writer's block.  
> Please remember the tags! I'd hate to trigger anyone. Please tell me if you have any questions or concerns!

**Four Days After the Adoption of Julia Holmes**

“John, that’s not where it goes.”

“What are you talking about?” John demanded, squinting at the instruction sheet. “That’s precisely where it goes.”

“No, that shelf goes at the top,” Sherlock protested, crossing his arms.

“They’re all the same size. It doesn’t matter which goes on top.”

“If it doesn’t matter, then why don’t we  just do it my way?”

“Because- because…”

“You don’t even have a valid reason for contradicting me,” Sherlock accused. “You’re just doing it to do it.”

Julia chuckled from her position lounging on her bed. Sherlock turned and rolled his eyes at her. She popped another crisp in her mouth and watched them argue over how to assemble her new bookshelf. She’d already figured out how she wanted her books displayed - by author, of course - but the two of them seemed to be purposely taking forever to do something that should’ve taken twenty minutes at the most.

“Do you want any help with that?”

“No,” they said in unison.

Julia sighed and fell back on her pillows, staring up at the ceiling.

“Sherlock, don’t play with the screws. We need those, and you can’t lose them.”

“I’m perfectly capable of keeping fifteen screws in a small plastic bag.”

“There are supposed to be sixteen.”

“Ah.”

“Sherlock.”

“John. It seems I’ve lost one of the screws.”

Julia bit her knuckles to keep from laughing. John sighed and rubbed his face.

“All right. Fine. Find it, then. I’ll put together what I can while you search for it.”

“That’s hardly fair,” Sherlock protested. “We’ll find it more quickly if you look for it too.”

“It is fair,” John replied easily. “You _lost_ the screw; you _find_ the screw. I think it’s simple enough.”

Sherlock huffed and began shuffling around, trying to find the missing screw. After five minutes of unsuccessful searching, he jumped up in aggravation, and the screw clinked to the floor. He paused.

"It must have gotten caught in the folds of my dressing gown."

"Of course it did," John muttered.

Sherlock handed the screw to John and sat back down.

"So really, I had it all along."

"Sherlock, no."

"John, don't make a fool of yourself. I'm right, as always."

"That's what I always am, isn't it?" John muttered. "Sherlock Holmes's personal fool."

"On the contrary,  John," Sherlock replied. "You're rather intelligent for someone so ordinary."

Julia winced. He'd almost had it. Sherlock had seen her and took the hint graciously.

"Not that you're particularly ordinary," Sherlock said, holding his hands out in a pacifying gesture. "You're just ordinary compared to _me_."

Julia clapped her hands over her eyes.

"That- isn't what I meant," Sherlock stammered. "You see, you are remarkably intelligent- compared to-"

"It's all right, Sherlock. I get it."

"I..."

"Sherlock, it's fine."

"Good. All right."

Julia sat up. “That’s it. I’m going to make lunch. Do you want anything?”

“No,” Sherlock replied automatically.

“I’m going to make you something anyway. The question was more directed towards John.”

“If you want, I’ll make something after we’re finished here.”

“But I’m hungry now, so…”

John sighed. “Sure. Ta.”

Julia could hear them argue as she walked down the stairs.

“If you honestly believe that’s where it goes, be my guest. See what happens when she tries to put a book on it, and it collapses on top of her.”

“Go ahead and do it your way, then.”

She laughed.

**Eleven Days After the Adoption of Julia Holmes**

Sherlock was in the sitting room flipping through some spreadsheets he’d made weeks ago for an experiment concerning human tongues when he heard it. Julia was screaming again.

Sherlock threw his lab notebook on the couch and bolted upstairs, running to Julia’s room. His stomach dropped. The white sheets were red, soaked through with blood oozing from the girl’s arms. She tossed and turned, clawing at the scars on her forearm and sobbing, her voice tearing its way out of her throat.

Sherlock grabbed her hands, and Julia’s panicked brown eyes snapped open. She met his gaze and started to whine; her arms must’ve been stinging terribly.

“It’s fine,” Sherlock said. “Everything’s okay. We have to clean you up now. Come on.”

He gently led her down the stairs and into the bathroom there. He sat her on the toilet and started digging for the first aid kit under the sink. When he found it, he sighed in relief. Carefully, he held Julia’s arm under the cold water until most of the blood was gone. Julia cried silently as he wiped her arm clean with an alcohol wipe. Sherlock inspected her skin meticulously.  

The girl had scratched open most of her scars, where the skin was thin and sensitive. She’d also clawed three parallel lines into the healthy skin of her outer forearm. Sherlock winced every time she did. He hummed one of her favorite violin melodies while he wrapped her arm with gauze, trying to distract her from the obvious discomfort.

“Everything’s fine,” Sherlock said softly. “It’s all okay. You’re safe.”

Julia nodded, choking on her sobs.

Sherlock handed her a painkiller and a glass of water. He rubbed her back as she drank greedily. After she was satisfied, he helped her stand and get to the living room. She lay on the couch immediately, kicking the lab notebook onto the floor. Sherlock picked it up and brought it into his bedroom, where he grabbed clean blankets and a pillow.

Julia was already sleeping when he returned. Draping a blanket over her delicate frame, he wondered how he was ever going to fix anything. Julia sighed in her sleep, and Sherlock reached out to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear.

“Thanks, Dad.”

Sherlock’s heart - because he did have one, thank you very much - absolutely fell. She wanted her father, someone he couldn’t be. Sherlock had thought he was doing an adequate job caring for her, but it seemed as if he still wasn’t enough. He decided to indulge himself and smiled.

“You’re welcome.”

Julia snored, and Sherlock frowned. He sat in his chair and went through his emails while Julia slept peacefully next to him. He felt his eyelids drooping, but he didn’t want to leave the room in case the girl had another nightmare or started scratching her bandages. So Sherlock checked the time - he would only need a few hours of sleep at this point - and curled up in his armchair. He wrapped his dressing gown around him and let sleep take him away.

**Twenty-Three Days After the Adoption of Julia Holmes**

Julia coughed violently, her body jerking. She lay lengthwise in Sherlock’s armchair, clutching a box of tissues. John had moved a small table next to her so she could put her orange juice down somewhere close to her, and now he placed a bowl of soup on it.

“Thanks, John.”

“It’s no problem. Make sure it cools off before you try to eat it.”

Julia nodded, coughing again.

“This is your fault,” she accused, gasping. “I told you… to wash your hands.”

“This is _not_ my fault,” Sherlock answered from his position on the couch. He was covered in a blanket and curled up into a little ball so John could sit between them. “Your immune system is extremely weak.”

“And what makes you say that?”

“Years of malnutrition and lack of proper vitamins,” replied Sherlock after blowing his nose loudly. “I’m honestly surprised you didn’t contract pneumonia the week we got back to London. It’s a miracle you haven’t died from some horrifying disease.”

“I’ve only been shopping with you and Molly!” Julia protested. She coughed again, struggling to catch her breath afterwards. “I knew you were going to get me sick. I told you to keep washing your hands. But no.”

“It’s your own fault,” Sherlock said. “You should’ve washed _your_ hands.”

“Okay, you two, that’s enough,” John interjected. “I’m not listening to you argue all day.”

“She started it.”

“Sherlock, don’t.”

“But _John_ -”

Julia coughed again, effectively cutting him off. She smirked when she saw him roll his eyes. John chuckled and patted Sherlock’s foot. Sherlock grumbled something about soup and turned his back to the room. John looked at Julia, and they shared a private smile.

They watched television for a while, and eventually Julia started to fall in and out of sleep. She wished she was in a bed where she could stretch out her limbs however she wanted, or at least on the couch, but since Sherlock was a good six inches taller than she was, he had claimed the couch as his. He used to be set up in his bedroom, but when Julia got sick, they’d all agreed it would be easier for John to take care of them if they were in close proximity.

So John had been their nurse as well as their doctor. He made soup for them, replaced their tissue boxes, and emptied their respective rubbish bins. He made sure they were drinking enough fluids and fought with Sherlock until the other man finally relented and drank his tea. Sherlock had seemed to realize how thirsty he actually was, and ordered John for another glass as soon as the blond sat down.

Julia prayed she would get better soon. She wasn’t sure if she could take being sick anymore.

**Twenty-Nine Days After the Adoption of Julia Holmes**

“No, no!” Julia cried. “Don’t!”

Sherlock paused, standing in front of his chair. He cocked his head. “What?”

“Don’t move. I was sketching you.”

“I was just reading.”

“So keep reading, then. Please?”

Sherlock sighed but sat back down obediently, crossing his legs as he had before. Julia thanked him, and the pencil started scratching against the paper once more. The girl had her new colored pencils out, and she took a full minute to choose a muted blue-green color.

“What on Earth are you using that color for?”

“Your eyes.”

“My eyes are not that color,” Sherlock replied.

“Not all the time.”

“That makes no sense whatsoever.”

“They change in the light,” Julia protested. “I have drawings where you have gray eyes, and some where you have greenish-yellow eyes, but most of them are just blue.”

Sherlock shrugged and kept reading. The material became boring within ten minutes, and he sighed heavily.

“I’m getting bored,” he warned.

“Deal with it.”

Sherlock huffed and stayed where he was. What must have been a half hour later, Julia made a frustrated sound and slammed her sketchbook shut.

“The lighting is all off now,” she complained. “All the shadows are different.”

Sherlock nodded absently and jumped to his feet, happy to be doing something other than pretending to read.

“Let’s order Thai.”

“Okay,” Julia replied slowly. “Not that I’m complaining, but why, exactly?”

“John’s stopping by after work.”

“Oh, is he?”

Sherlock shot the girl an unfriendly look. “Not like that.”

“Pity.”

“He doesn’t like men.”

“It’s a shame,” Julia replied earnestly.

“Julia,” Sherlock said sternly. As much as Sherlock didn’t mind talking to Julia, it seemed the only thing she wanted to talk about was his relationship with John. He hated talking about that, since what use were imaginary things? John wasn't interested; he was not gay. Sherlock had never even told John that he was. Not that John hadn't guessed. Anyone of reasonable intelligence could probably figure it out. John nearly had, when they were on their first case together.

Sherlock often thought back to that case, to their dinner at Angelo's. He wondered what would've happened if he hadn't panicked and told John he was married to his work. Sherlock Holmes did not make stupid decisions, but that... that had been a stupid decision. In Sherlock's defense, it has seemed like the best plan of action at the time.

"Sherlock?"

"Hm?"

"I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing for things."

Julia shrugged. Sherlock picked up his phone and ordered for the three of them, easily remembering both John’s and Julia’s favorite dishes.

**Thirty-Eight Days After the Adoption of Julia Holmes**

Julia woke up earlier than usual. She yawned, rolled over, and scrambled for her phone to check the time. She smiled when she saw the text message from Will Lestrade.

_(7:13am) Hey, u up yet?_

_(7:27am) I am now, sorry. What’s up?_

_(7:29am) Dad’s driving me to school and asking me who i’m texting_

_(7:31am) Tell him I said hi!_

_(7:33am) He said hello and made a mildly surprised face_

_(7:34am) Hahah! So, what’s the plan for today?_

_(7:37am) School, homework, then i’m going to Kieren’s mum’s flat_

_(7:39am) Oh, that’s fun_

_(7:41am) Yeah, hopefully his sister won’t be there_

_(7:41am) What’s wrong with his sister?_

_(7:43am) She’s just… very rude to him. He acts fine, but I know it gets to him_

_(7:44am) Ugh that’s terrible. What about school?_

_(7:46am) I’ve got a chem test today and I think i’m gonna fail_

_(7:47am) I’m sure you’ll be fine_

_(7:49am) Yeah hopefully. Gtg, school’s starting_

_(7:49am) Bye. Talk to you later!_

Julia sat up and stretched. Anthea would be at the flat in an hour to go over Julia’s last biology test and ideally start another unit on genealogy. It was discovered early on that Julia had an extremely accurate and retentive memory. It made things much easier to learn, and it was much easier to catch up to the level of kids her age than she thought it would be. Currently, she was learning seventh year maths, ninth year science and literature, and eighth year history and English.

Sherlock was also helping her learn French. Julia liked that the best, because Sherlock would slip into the language effortlessly. He spoke it as he spoke English, directly and without hesitation. Julia admired the ease with which he spoke, and tried to convince him to use his French more often than he did.

Julia checked the time once more and rolled out of bed. She ran her fingers through her hair, which was now just brushing her shoulders. Sherlock had asked her if she wanted to get it cut, but Julia wasn’t sure. She threw her clothes on quickly, pushing the question to the back of her mind. She’d think about it later.

“I’m making breakfast,” Julia announced, walking into the sitting room.

Sherlock was sprawled on the couch, his arm hanging over the side. He jumped up when Julia entered the room and hurried to get his wallet.

“No, don’t do that,” Sherlock protested. “Why don’t you pop downstairs and get something from Speedy’s?” He handed Julia enough money to get several pastries.

She smiled. “Sounds great.”

**Fifty-One Days After the Adoption of Julia Holmes**

“What are you doing?”

Sherlock sighed. He glanced the girl standing next to him, who had been watching raptly as he jotted down notes.

“Experiment.”

“Oh. What is it?”

“The rate at which these livers decay when I inject them with bath salts.”

Julia paused. “And… is that supposed to help you with your work?”

“No, I’m just _so bored_. I haven’t had a case in _ages_ ,” Sherlock exclaimed.

“Oh. Can I help?”

Sherlock paused. He looked up, considering. It would be nice to have an extra set of hands helpi- no, assisting him.

“I suppose. There are more goggles in the cabinet. Gloves, too.”

The girl beamed and rooted around until she found the supplies she needed. She pulled the goggles over her eyes. Sherlock felt his lips turn up in a small smile.

“Safety first, right?” Julia asked, holding up her gloved hands.

“Of course,” Sherlock replied. “Although, I’m not sure you want to touch a human liver with your bare hands.”

Julia’s eyes widened. “Wait, it’s a _human_ liver?”

“Yes. Is that a problem?”

“What? No! That’s awesome,” she exclaimed. “Did Molly give those to you or did you steal them?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Molly gave them to me.”

“Good.”

“Hold this,” Sherlock ordered, holding out a syringe. “Don’t prick yourself.”

“I’m not Sleeping Beauty.”

Sherlock paused and furrowed his brow.

“Do you not know Sleeping Beauty?”

“If I ever have, I’ve deleted it.”

“Well, that was funny. That was a good joke. If you had known who Sleeping Beauty was, you would have laughed. Or at least done that odd little smirk you do when you don’t want to smile but can’t really help yourself.”

Sherlock smirked, then caught himself and frowned.

“See!” Julia cried. “There it was!”

“No, it wasn’t. Hand me the syringe. Carefully.”

“Oh, no,” Julia deadpanned. “I seem to have lost control of all motor functions in my arm. Please forgive me for stabbing you repeatedly with this syringe filled with highly unpleasant substances.”

“Very clever,” Sherlock muttered.

Despite her words, the girl handed him the tool cautiously.

“Sorry.”

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop apologizing for ridiculous things?”

“Sorry.”

Sherlock froze. “Did you just apologize for apologizing?”

“Maybe.”

“Don’t do that again.”

“Would you believe I did it to irritate you?”

“No.”

“Okay then.”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. He rested his hand on the organ and splayed his fingers. He stuck the needle into the liver and pushed the plunger, injecting the bath salt into it. Julia watched in complete concentration.

“So… what happens now?”

“We wait for it to start decomposing.”

“Will it?”

“I believe so.”

“So you don’t actually know.”

“That’s why we’ve done the experiment.”

There was a knock on the door, and Sherlock shouted a quick greeting. Julia picked up the next syringe and held it carefully, waiting for further instructions.

John walked into the kitchen and grinned. “You’re adorable.”

“We are not,” they said in unison.

“Yes, you are,” John laughed. His smile faded away. “That won’t explode, will it?”

“No,” Julia said.

“It might,” Sherlock replied slowly, cocking his head.

**Sixty-Four Days After the Adoption of Julia Holmes**

Julia jumped when Sherlock shouted.

“John! There’s a case; Lestrade texted. Two bodies found, both genetic twins estranged from their siblings, no connections _whatsoever_ , found in the same building,” he declared, tying his scarf around his neck. “Get your coat. I told Lestrade we’d be there in twenty minutes. I think this is a good one, John, I can _feel_ it. Ah, finally something to-”

“Sherlock,” John interrupted. “I… I can’t go.”

“Why not?” Sherlock scoffed.

“I have a date.”

Julia’s gaze snapped to John. She took in his clean brown shoes and his neat blue button-up. It couldn’t have been more obvious if he’d tried. Those were his date clothes, and he’d worn them to the flat before said date. Julia wondered why he’d bothered to come to the flat at all. It was almost as if John wanted them to know.

Sherlock froze. He swallowed visibly but nodded anyway. “Of course, John. That’s… good. Yes, good. Well, I’ll just be off, then.” Sherlock checked the time on his phone. “Er, Julia, in bed by eleven. I should be home by then, but, well…”

“Yeah, okay,” Julia replied. “Have fun at the crime scene. Text me the details?”

“Perhaps.”

“Please? I’m so bored around here when you’re gone,” Julia whined. “There’s no one to talk to.”

“I’ll be here.”

“You’re going on your _date_.”

John didn’t say anything in reply. Julia rolled her eyes and threw her legs over the arm of Sherlock’s chair, letting her arm hang off the other side.

“All right,” John said. “I should go, too, then.”

“Nonsense, John. You know you’re always welcome here,” Sherlock replied.

“Yes, but I wouldn’t want to… overstay.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Stay with Julia until you have to pick up your date.”

Sherlock closed the door carefully, leaving the flat with none of the enthusiasm he’d had before.

Julia sighed loudly and kept her eyes on the ceiling.

“What the hell?”

“What?” John questioned.

“You have a date.”

“Yes?”

“Already,” mused Julia casually.

“Yes,” John answered, his voice cold and hard. “Is that a problem?”

“No,” Julia replied just as coldly, making it known that it was, in fact, a big problem. “No problem at all.”

“Julia-”

“It’s just for sex, right?”

“W-what? No!”

“John! You can’t have a _real_ date. You can’t. Sherlock just-”

“ _Sherlock_ can function just fine on his own.”

“He shouldn’t be on his own in the first place! You’re supposed to be here, John. I know the only reason you haven’t moved back in is because I’ve taken your bedroom, but that doesn’t mean you can just go and do whatever you like.”

“That’s what being an adult means,” he protested. “I can go and do whatever I like.”

“When will you just admit it? That you love him?” Julia questioned.

“If it’s ever actually true.”

"Fine." Julia swallowed. “Fine. That's great. Perfect, really."

"I don’t think Sherlock feels things like that."

"You of all people should know how wrong that is," she ground out. "He does. Sherlock is not a machine. He loves so many people, John. He threw himself off a building for you."

"That wasn't just-"

"Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, and you."

"Right."

"Does that make it any less selfless?"

John swallowed uneasily.

"I'll take your silence as a 'no.'"

"He doesn't- _love_ people."

"He loves me, and Mrs. Hudson, and Molly, and his brother, even though he doesn’t like to admit it. And he loves you. Maybe you just don't want to see it, but it's there, staring you right in the face."

"He loves you?"

"Yes, but this is not the point I was trying to make. So if we could get back to that..."

"Has he told you?"

"No, of course not. He doesn't have to say it for it to be true."

John didn't look impressed.

"When I have nightmares, he plays the violin so I'll wake up. I had one - a bad one, one of the worst I've had -  and he had to wake me up himself. I was scratching myself when I was sleeping so I was bleeding." Julia winced as she unwrapped the gauze around her arm. "He cleaned my arms and wrapped me up."

"You should've-"

"Gone to hospital? I don't think so," Julia interrupted. "He saved me. I was depressed; not that it's just magically gone away, but it's so much better now. He encourages my education and never tells me I'm stupid. Ordinary, yes, because I am compared to him, but never stupid.”

John swallowed but didn’t say anything. Julia wished for a response, but it seemed she wasn’t going to get one.

“He never asks about my scars. He pretends they aren’t even there. It’s rather refreshing,” the girl told him. “We watch mysteries on telly, and we play this game to see whether or not I can figure out who did it before the detective on the show can. I win most of the time, and when I’m wrong, he corrects me, tells me what I missed.”

“That’s… adorable.”

Julia frowned. “Adorable?”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Have you listened to anything else I’ve said?”

“Yes, of course I have.”

“It doesn’t seem like it.”

John sighed. “I don’t want to talk about this right now. Especially not with you.”

“Talk about what?”

“You know,” John replied harshly. “ _This_.”

“I really don’t understand. What don’t you want to talk about?”  
John smirked. “I know what you’re doing. I won’t say it.”

“Say what?” Julia asked, her eyes wide in what she hoped was a convincing mask of innocence.

“I won’t,” John repeated, checking his watch. “I have to go. Remember, bed by eleven.”

“I know,” Julia replied. “I heard Sherlock when he told me half an hour ago.”

John paused by the door. He turned to Julia and smiled mirthlessly.

“Oh, Julia?”

“What?”  
“My feelings for Sherlock aren’t any of your business.”

The door slammed, and when she was sure John was out of earshot, Julia screamed into the pillow next to her.

**Seventy-Three Days After the Adoption of Julia Holmes**

“Ah, John. Good to see you,” Sherlock said, smiling faintly. “How was your _date_?”

“I thought I told you,” John replied, closing the door behind him.

“Perhaps you told Julia. She does love to hear about anything other than detectives or gruesome murders.”

“I wonder why,” John chuckled.

Sherlock smirked.

John cleared his throat and sat in his chair.

Sherlock’s heart wanted to burst, seeing John where he was supposed to be. But he knew John would have to leave, to go _home_ to the house he had once shared with Mary. There was a turmoil of _emotions_ in Sherlock’s chest, and he hated it. He was overjoyed to simply see the John, and filled with great sadness every time he was reminded that the other man had no interest in him. There was that indescribable feeling of love - the warmth in his chest that seemed to radiate outwards every time John was near him.

Sherlock always wondered if John could feel his heat from across the room. Sherlock himself felt like he was on fire, burning as hot and bright as the sun.

“It was fine.”

“What?”

“The date. It was fine,” John repeated.

“Ah, yes. Was there something wrong with her?”

“What do you mean?”

“You didn’t have sex,” Sherlock said easily. “If you had, you would’ve counted it as a success. You said it was ‘fine,’ therefore you didn’t have sex. Did you?”

“What? No, I-”

“So,” Sherlock continued, “what was wrong with her?”

“There was nothing _wrong_ with her, Sherlock.”

“There must have been _so_ -”

“ _Sherlock_.”

Sherlock paused and swallowed. “Not good?”

“A bit, yeah.”

“Ah.”

“So.”

Sherlock swallowed.“Yes. So.”

“Right.”

Julia walked into the room, carrying _The Princess Bride_. She paused in the doorway, eyes flicking between the two of them.

“Hello,” she said slowly. “Is this a bad time?”

“No, no,” John replied.

“Not at all,” Sherlock answered.

“You look… uncomfortable.”

“I think it’s rude to point it out,” Sherlock reminded.

“Oh,” Julia whispered. “Right. Sorry.”

“Was there… something you needed?” John asked.

“I was going to ask if we were doing something for dinner…”

John coughed into his fist. “I don’t have anything planned.”

“Oh, no date tonight?”

“Julia,” Sherlock warned.

“Sorry, sorry,” Julia replied, holding her hands up in surrender. She threw herself on the couch and opened her book to a page more than three-quarters through.

“Oh, you’re almost done,” John observed. “How do you like it?”

“It’s _great_ ,” Julia gushed. “I love it!”

John smiled. “Well, I’m glad I did something right.”

“All the books are great. Sherlock’s a bit like Dr. Frankenstein.”

“What? Why?” he asked.

“Well, he was a genius, but everyone thought he was a little insane,” Julia reasoned. “And he does experiments on human parts, too.”

“Ah. Well… thank you, I suppose.”

“I can see it, too,” John laughed. “The crazed scientist.”

“Crazed?” Julia asked, frowning.

“Yet brilliant,” John amended.

Sherlock felt the warmth in his chest travel up to his ears. He hoped John couldn’t see it, but by the look on her face, Julia had it figured out almost immediately.

**Eighty-Eight Days After the Adoption of Julia Holmes**

_(5:48pm) what’s the sq root of 156 times sq root of 91?_

Julia sighed. Will knew about her tutoring, and he knew she wouldn’t have the answer.

_(5:48pm) I don’t know. I’ve just started eighth year maths, remember?_

_(5:49pm) Ur useless to me now. What are you studying then?_

_(5:50pm) Variable expressions_

_(5:51pm) I remember variable expressions. those were the good days_

_(5:51pm) Haha, I’ve got easier maths homework than you_

_(5:52pm) Shut it, Holmes_

_(5:52pm) Make me, William_

_(5:52pm) You know I hate that name_

_(5:53pm) Shall I call you Billy instead?_

_(5:53pm) NO!_

_(5:54pm) Billy Lestrade_

_(5:55pm) Damn, ur name isn’t even easy to make fun of_

_(5:56pm) But I’m your Holmes homie. Your Holmie._

She laughed as his texts arrived in quick succession. Sherlock looked up from his book and frowned.

_(5:57pm) Oh God that was horrible_

_(5:57pm) My eyes are burning_

_(5:57pm) I can’t even look at that text_

_(5:58pm) It physically hurts me_

_(5:58pm) Jules why have u done this_

_(5:58pm) Never tell anyone that again_

“Why are you laughing so much?” Sherlock asked.

“Oh, um, I’m texting Will.”

“Gavin’s son?”

“His name is Greg, but yeah.”

Sherlock’s brow furrowed. “Why?”

“Because he’s my friend.”

“Is he?” Sherlock questioned.

“Yeah,” Julia replied. “He texts me about his school and friends. They seem nice, too.”

Sherlock hummed. “Interesting.”

“What is?”

“Does he go to a day school?”

“Yeah.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know, a sixth form not far from here.”

Sherlock nodded. "Do you text him a lot?"

"Sort of."

"And do you... _like_ him?"

"He's my friend," Julia replied, blushing.

“That’s… good.”

“Yeah.”

“Have you looked at sixth form schools yet?”

“No,” Julia replied. “I didn’t want to get ahead of myself.”

Sherlock hummed and whipped out his phone. Julia glanced at hers.

_(5:59pm) Didn’t offend u, did I, HOLMES?_

_(6:04pm) No, you’re fine._

_(6:04pm) Good. Hate to upset u_

_(6:05pm) If I’m upset, you’ll know_

_(6:05pm) I’m shaking_

_(6:06pm) Oh shut it. You should be scared_

_(6:07pm) Why should I be?_

_(6:07pm) Because I have assassin blood running through my veins_

_(6:08pm) Oh ha bloody ha_

Julia chuckled. Will always thought she was joking.

_(6:09pm) What can I say? I’m just that funny_

_(6:10pm) Ur mental, is what you are_

_(6:10pm) Oh, ha bloody ha!_

_(6:11pm) I’m rubbing off on u!_

_(6:12pm) What did you expect? You’re the only teenager I know._

_(6:13pm) That’s really sad_

_(6:13pm) Is it?_

_(6:14pm) Yeah. Do u just hang out with adults all day?_

_(6:15pm) Sherlock lets me help with experiments sometimes. Mostly, it’s just the two of us, but John pops by the flat more often than not._

_(6:16pm) So who do u go out with?_

_(6:17pm) Molly Hooper_

_(6:17pm) Who?_

_(6:18pm) She’s a pathologist. She’s Sherlock’s friend._

_Will’s next texts came in quickly._

_(6:18pm) So_

_(6:18pm) About your friend thing_

_(6:19pm) Maybe ud wanna come over to Kieren’s with me sometime_

_(6:19pm) U can meet other teenagers_

_Julia bit her lip, thinking for a moment._

_(6:21pm) I’d love to, but I’d have to ask Sherlock_

_(6:22pm) That’s great :) I gtg, my mum’s hounding me about the dishes_

_(6:23pm) William Lestrade, you do your chores!_

__

**Ninety-Nine Days After the Adoption of Julia Holmes**

_“I’m so glad you’ve called, Sherlock.”_

“As am I, Mummy.”

‘Mummy?’ Julia mouthed, suppressing a grin.

Sherlock shot a quick glare at her.

_“You know I miss you, dear.”_

“I do.”

_“Why don’t you ever stop by anymore, Lockie? I haven’t heard from you in ages! I was beginning to worry. Mycroft had to break the news about your daughter.”_

“She’s not-”

_“Don’t start with me, young man. Words cannot express how deeply I’m saddened and frankly offended that you didn’t trust me enough to tell me.”_

“Mummy, I-”

_“This girl has been living with you for how long? And your father and I have never had a single opportunity to meet her!”_

“Yes, I know. I was going to come out for Chr-”

_“Don’t you lie to me. You were not going to ‘come out for Christmas’ of your own free will. You have not ‘come out for Christmas’ for years, Lockie! Mycroft has always come to visit us, and he always asks you to come out, but what do you say? What do you always say, Lockie?”_

“‘I can’t make it,’ Mummy. ‘I’m too busy.’”

_“Yes, exactly, Lockie. Tell me how that’s fair.”_

“It isn’t.”

_“What did you say?”_

Sherlock sighed. “It isn’t fair, Mummy.”

_“One more time, darling, this once without the attitude.”_

“It isn’t fair.”

_“Thank you, Lockie. Your father and I will stop by the flat soon.”_

“What? Mummy, I don’t think that’s-”

_“You don’t think it’s what?”_

“Mummy, I just-”

_“Lockie, your father and I are stopping by your flat for lunch within the month so we can finally meet our granddaughter. You should be glad I’m giving you notice.”_

“Yes, I wouldn’t put it past you to pop up unannounced.”

_“Watch your mouth, young man.”_

“Yes, Mummy.”

_“Oh, good.  We’re so thrilled about meeting your daughter!”_

“She’s not-”

_“We’ll see you soon, Lockie. I love you lots, darling.”_

“Yes, Mummy.” Sherlock lowered his voice. “I love you, too.”

He hung up the phone and glanced at Julia, who was obviously trying not to laugh.

“Oh, would you shut up?”

“No, no,” Julia replied, grinning stupidly, “I think it’s _so_ cute.”

Sherlock frowned. “Shouldn’t you be studying for something?”

“Probably.”

“So… get to it, then.”

“Fine,” Julia groaned, but she ran upstairs anyway.

“We’ll look at schools after you’re done!” Sherlock called after her.

“All right,” Julia replied, entering the sitting room with a few notebooks in her hands. “That sounds good.”

“That’s not an excuse to fly through it,” Sherlock clarified. “Read. Absorb. Understand.”

Julia raised her eyebrows. “I’ll do my best, Sherlock.”

Sherlock sat in his chair, mentally ticking off the things he’d have to get ready for his parents’ visit. He’d have to clean the whole flat. He’d have to _make dinner_.

“What do I call them?” Julia asked, interrupting his thoughts.

Sherlock hummed in question, not bothering to open his eyes.

“What do I call your parents?” Julia asked again. “I call you ‘Sherlock.’ Am I supposed to call them by their names, or will they get offended?”

“Call them whatever you want.”

“I want to _know_ what I should call them.”

“You can ask them. I’m sure they won’t mind the question. They’re exceedingly kind people.”

“And they raised you?” Julia teased.

“It’s a cross I have to bear,” Sherlock replied, smirking.

Julia laughed.


End file.
